A Bitter Connection
by lifeblood
Summary: What is that sound, and what on Earth could it be? One Shot. RR & enjoy.


1Disclaimer: If it were mine, it wouldn't be here and I'd be very rich. As it is, right now I'm very poor, so if you sue me you'll get lots of nothing.

Authors Note: My third completed fic in two days. Wow, the muses must like me or something. I have no idea where the inspiration for this one came from, but I do like it and I hope you will to. I seem to be spewing out a lot of one shots, so I'm sorry if it annoys anyone that I haven't posted any multiple chapter fics, but I haven't finished developing the one I'm currently working on. I appreciate reviews and ideas. Many thanks and blessed be,

-lifeblood

This fic is dedicated to Nathan.

A Bitter Connection

Severus Snape strode rapidly through the halls of Hogwarts' dungeons toward his office. It had been a miserably long Friday. Double potions with the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins in the morning and a batch of third years on the afternoon before a Hogsmeade weekend. It was no wonder he was in a foul mood. It was enough to give even the most patient man alive a migraine, and he was extremely far from ever being described as that. And he still had papers to mark. Joy.

He sighed in relief upon reaching the relative sanctuary of his office. Entering, he sat down and picked up his quill to begin grading the latest batch of meaningless dribble the fourth years had turned in. He had been slashing a exceptionally abrasive remark on some unfortunate student's essay on swelling solutions, his migraine having faded considerably, when he heard a noise coming from his classroom.

Severus rose, immediately alarmed. There shouldn't be anyone in the potions classroom at seven thirty at night. It was not a favorite place for any student, by far. Furthermore, he had locked and warded it, as he always did, after the last class of the day let out. Something was definitely not right.

He threw open the classroom door, wand at the ready, only to be confronted with a seemingly empty room. The sound, however, had increased in intensity and was now identifiable. It sounded like...crying?

Upon closer inspection, he observed a huddled figure crouched in a corner, barely visible behind the workbenches. Sighing, he sheathed his wand and resigned himself to dealing with whatever juvenile crisis had driven this distraught student to sequester themself in his dungeons. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him silently.

Crossing to the sobbing personage, he recognized the lanky figure and bushy hair that characterized Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' current Head Girl and resident academic prodigy. Odd, he mused. Whatever had driven her to hiding in the potions lab? She was usually with her two escorts, dumb and dumber. He wondered if they had done something to cause her present state.

"Miss Granger?" he queried in a low voice. She only sobbed harder into her knees, shaking her head.

"Miss Granger, what's wrong?"

A muffled, "Go away," was the discernable between the broken sobs. He was a bit taken aback and was about to utter a caustic retort when he noticed that she was rocking back and forth like a small, lost child.

He knelt down beside her saying, "I most certainly will not leave you alone when it is plain that you are in some considerable distress. It's my job, as your teacher, to look out for your well-being, and add to that, the fact that if you keep up at this rate, you'll flood the entire castle in under an hour." He really was at a loss for words, that was painfully obvious.

"Go _away_," she wrenched out, "You can't do anything anyway. You were supposed to know about it, you're the spy. Why didn't you know? Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you...." she broke down again.

Now he was well and truly confused. Just what was she talking about? "I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Miss Granger. What exactly happened to send you into such a state?"

"My, my p-parents," she said brokenly, "They were-were...My house was, was attacked by D-Death Eaters. They k-killed my m-mum and dad." The sobbing had stopped, now only tears coursed their way down her cheeks in torrents.

Severus went pale at the news. He had not, despite his devoted work as a mole in the ranks of the Death Eaters, heard of a potential attack on anyone, particularly the Grangers. He stared at Hermione dumbly out of shocked eyes set in his ashen face.

"Oh, Merlin," he whispered. "I didn't know," he said, dazedly. "They didn't tell me anything. Merlin, I didn't know." He looked down at her worn and weary figure, wracked by grief and guilt. Haunted eyes stared back at him.

"It's my fault," whispered Hermione, "If I wasn't a witch then they wouldn't have been killed, wouldn't have been targeted. It's my fault." Her voice was ragged and broken, but it was her words that brought him out of his trance-like state.

"Don't say that. Don't you ever say that," he admonished fiercely. "This is no one's fault but Voldemort's and, perhaps, Lucius Malfoy's. You are not responsible for this."

"But if I-" she started. He cut her off, placing a finger on her lips to silence her. He cupped her chin, forcing her to hold his eyes with her own.

"If you weren't a witch there would be small hope for young Mr. Potter. You are bright, and you are gifted. You are important to every one of us who are fighting to bring Voldemort down. You cannot blame yourself for the atrocities committed against your parents. Even had you not been a witch, they stood just as much a chance to be attacked as every other muggle in the world," his dark eyes were imploring. "You must understand, Voldemort and his followers, they kill for fun, for amusement. If you weren't a witch you would be dead along with them instead of having a chance to avenge their deaths and bring to ruin those who did this.

"Hermione," he continued softly, "there is nothing that you can change. I am sorry that I did not discover that your parents were being targeted, but that is my failing not yours. If you let this destroy you now you are letting those who did this win." He let go of her chin and placed a supportive hand on her still-trembling shoulder. "Grieve for your parents, mourn their deaths and your loss, but do not crumble into nothingness. You must be stronger than you ever knew you could be."

Hermione gazed up into his lined face, aged before his time by the strain of the double life he lived. She nodded and sighed wearily. There were no more tears now, but she felt empty and weak. She leaned her head on her arms, still looking at him, and murmured quietly, more to herself than to him, "I wish I could have told them I loved them one last time."

Her quiet lament moved the usually taciturn man more than anything else could have. He gathered the parentless girl, so much a woman and so much a child, into his arms and held her. Together they took comfort in one another's presence there on the cold stone floor of the dungeon potions classroom. The world-weary jaded spy and the grieving newly-orphaned innocent clung to each other in the heart of the night, deep within the bowels of the stronghold of the light.

Finis


End file.
